


Benefits of Sleep, The

by cgb



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-04
Updated: 2001-03-04
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgb/pseuds/cgb
Summary: Toby gets a little sleepdeprived and distracted.





	Benefits of Sleep, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Title: The Benefits of Sleep.  
Author: CGB  
Web: http://Appelsini.tripod.com/Christine/  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: None.  
Feedback: Dang good!!  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from  
below and I'm certainly not making any money from  
their use.  
Summary: CJ/Toby fic. Toby gets a little sleep  
deprived and distracted.

*  
The Benefits of Sleep

He was watching her cross and un-cross her legs in the  
oval office. He admired the way the curves of her knee  
seemed to point to a small crescent shaped scar at the  
top of her shin. He was idly imagining trailing a  
finger from her knee to the top of the scar when he  
noticed she had caught him staring. She arched an  
eyebrow at him and he looked away.

The President was absorbed in something Sam was saying  
and Toby had missed the entire dialogue. He  
immediately berated himself for his lack of  
concentration. It was unlike him.

In the oval office there was no excuse for not paying  
attention. Not even the fact that it was eleven thirty  
at night and he was tired. So tired that his brain  
found in CJ Gregg's legs a more appealing subject than  
the mechanics of running the nation. He knew he should  
sleep more but he could never understand the appeal of  
sleep. If someone wasn't always telling him to go home  
and get some sleep he imagined he would spend  
twenty-four hours a day roaming the White House.

The President was laughing.

"Get some sleep Sam!" he instructed in a fatherly  
tone, "Get some sleep all of you."  
And with that they filed out of the office.

Josh was immediately at his side.

"Where were you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I thought you wanted 8 am for the PBS Board?"

"I did."

"Too late. Sam took it right out from under your nose  
while you were sleeping back there."

Toby stopped walking.

"Dammit Josh why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you didn't want it anymore."

"Damn." He shook his head and resumed the walk back to  
his office.

"Talk to Sam, he's flexible".

Toby stepped into his office and waved his hand.

"See you tomorrow Josh."

"Get some sleep Toby," Josh answered him earnestly.

Once inside his office he sank into the chair pushed  
into an odd angle at his desk and leaned his head  
back.

He had been staring at her legs. He couldn't even  
begin to list all the problems inherent in that  
subject of observation.

Aside from the obvious danger of crossing boundaries  
established between co-workers in an office  
environment, he had been directing his lascivious gaze  
at CJ who, while highly deserving of such an  
appreciative stare, was likely to punish him with a  
distinctly cold manner coupled with the occasional  
acerbic comment. He'd seen her work the pressroom  
like they were incorrigible school children. He  
considered himself capable of clever rhetoric but CJ's  
disdain left one with the feeling of having failed  
miserably to live up to her high standards.

Certainly it had that effect on him.

He could see her arched eyebrow and thinly pursed lips  
in his mind now. She was wearing a white blouse.  
Yesterday it was a mustard yellow with pants. She  
looked intelligent. She looked like she'd ask for a  
Scotch neat if you took her out for a drink. He wasn't  
much of a drinker but he had a strange feeling he'd  
like to see her drink Scotch

"I thought you wanted 8 am?"

She was standing in the doorway resting one hand  
against the jamb.

"Sam got it," he replied without hesitation.

"You should have been paying attention." The corner of  
one side of her mouth went up as though she might  
smile but it fell quickly.

He looked at the floor and then up again at her. She  
was still there waiting for him to say something.

"Goodnight CJ," he said.

"Night," she said softly.

He got a taxi home. In the kitchen of his one bedroom  
apartment he found a container of milk that had sat  
outside of his refrigerator since the weekend. It  
bloated slightly dissuading any argument that might  
have suggested it was still drinkable.

He poured it down the sink. He had a nice apartment  
really, he just wasn't in it enough to treat it with  
the love it deserved. He had a dead potted plant in  
the corner and was momentarily grateful he didn't have  
any pets.

He had an apartment that suggested he never intended  
to bring a woman home. He had an apartment that  
suggested he didn't think about it very often either.

He looked at the sofa and wondered whether it might be  
more aesthetically pleasing if it were placed by the  
window.

After several minutes contemplating the problem he  
gave up and doomed himself forever to his  
stereotypical bachelor-like existence.

And what the hell did it matter anyway?

  


When she came out of the pressroom the next day he was  
waiting for her.

"CJ can I talk to you?"

"Sure. What's up?" she said as she continued walking.

"Privately?"

She inclined her head forward slightly and he followed  
her into her office. She shut the door behind them.

Inside she leaned against her desk and folded her  
arms. Toby watched the fish swim around the American  
flags in their bowl. Danny, he remembered gave her the  
fish out of a rather charming misunderstanding.

Danny. Charming, professional and sincere Danny. Nice  
guy.

"What is it Toby?"

He cleared his throat.

"Ah... I thought I should apologize for my... ah...  
inappropriate behavior in the office last night."

"You were staring at my legs."

"Yes." He nodded.

"You're apologizing for staring at my legs?"

"It would seem so."

"How did you like them?"

"Your legs?"

"No, Josh and Sam's double juggling act. Yes, my legs  
Toby. How did you like them?"

"They were...distracting."

Her face went blank momentarily and then she tilted  
her head back and laughed.

"That's good," she said when she had stopped, "that's  
OK."

He had the vaguest sense of being out of his depth.  
Like playing with the older boys when he was a kid.  
Terrified they'd kill him or at least cause him  
injury.

"I don't want you to misunderstand, CJ. I was tired.  
It won't happen again."

"Of course," she said still not completely serious,  
"and I'll try to be less distracting."

He nodded and thrust his hands into his pockets. He  
turned to leave and then turned back on a whim.

"CJ, you know that mustard blouse you were wearing the  
day before last? It was ah... filmy � I think it was  
silk?"

"Yes?"

"I ah... find that blouse very distracting."

She nodded gravely.

"I'll bear that in mind."

  


She didn't wear it the next day. Or the next. But on  
Friday as he walked past the press room he caught a  
glimpse of yellow behind the podium hidden partly by  
her I-mean-business style jacket.

He liked to think he was too old to be teased so he  
attributed it to some kind of fluke or  
misunderstanding, the charming kind that was prevalent  
in the White House of late. And she was wearing pants  
anyway. She usually did. So what did it mean, if  
anything?

He bumped into Josh outside the pressroom barely  
preventing himself from winding up on the floor.

It meant she was distracting. So damned distracting.

  


Fini


End file.
